


You knock me out (I fall apart)

by sebviathan



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Banter, Dear Theodosia era, Fluff, Historical Accuracy, M/M, i swear there's such little angst this time it doesn't even count as angst. it's a christmas miracle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 21:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5471492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebviathan/pseuds/sebviathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton moves in down the street from Burr, and they bond over fatherhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You knock me out (I fall apart)

For the first time in his life, Alexander Hamilton had a real home, a permanent address. Perhaps not half as extravagant as the Schuyler mansion or even some of the other houses on Wall Street, but it was more than he ever could have dreamed of back on St. Croix. And it was  _his_.

For all the excitement he should be feeling upon reaching this milestone, however—all the time he should be wanting to spend with Eliza, possibly christening their new bed—Alexander can't help but be focused on something else entirely:

He now lives just down the road from Aaron Burr.

Which, of course, means he must go see him. It feels obvious, the natural thing to do—he can't  _not_  visit him and what, just let their proximity go unmentioned for potentially weeks or months? Not when there is so much he needs to tell him.

"You act as though you haven't seen the man in years," Eliza laughs as he hurriedly dons his coat so soon after shrugging it off. "Wasn't it just last week you told me about an argument you two had?"

"It was a bit too short to be an argument," he corrects her, pulling on his gloves. "And it's  _all_  been short—idle conversation here and there, almost entirely concerning law... we've simply been far too busy to engage in much of anything friendly."

"I'm sure you'll have a chance for plenty of that in the near future."

He very easily reads between the lines and understands that his wife would much prefer he stay home, but she  _must_  know that once he's set on something, his mind can't be changed.

"I'll be back soon enough." With a mere step towards her and his usual charming smile, she seems to melt into compliance. And to reassure her further, he settles a gentle hand on her hip. "I'll even take Philip off your hands, and for the time being you can relax—or explore the house, whatever your fancy."

"There isn't much to explore, but alright," she finally sighs.

Relieved, Alexander leans down to kiss his dear Eliza goodbye and promptly scoops his son up in his arms. His lips break into an impassioned smile before he's even out the door, and Eliza reminds him:

"Do try to return before sundown!"

*

The walk would probably take only half as long if Alexander didn't allow Philip to walk alongside him rather than remain in his arms.

He's a fairly excitable boy and has preferred to walk on his own even before he could properly balance himself, so Alexander indulges him. For nearly a half-hour he clutches tightly onto his father's two forefingers and trots at an agonizingly slow pace (especially considering the cold), but Alexander himself is nothing but proud.

When he does finally lift Philip off the ground again it's on Burr's doorstep, and his son wants to help him knock on the door. His tiny fist can't create much force but he does a good job.

And when the door opens, he doesn't think he's smiled so wide since Philip's birth.

"Alex—?"

"Look at my son!" He can't help it, he's been holding it in the entire walk here, and now a small tear escapes his eye as he thrusts Philip just slightly forward.

Burr obeys and looks at the toddler in Alexander's arms, the tiniest smile now forming at the edge of his lips. He looks more confused than anything.

At which Alexander realizes, apologizes, and asks to come in.

"Fatherhood has failed to tame you, I see," he chuckles, closing the door behind them.

"Well, it's changed me in other ways." It's true, though he has yet to find proper words to describe it. When Philip was much younger he did tell a friend that he was losing his taste for ambition, but that proved to be a very brief phase. "For the better, I hope. There is...  _more_  inside me now."

He bounces his son in his arms rather than putting him down immediately, and when he looks up he notices Burr regarding him in such a way that it makes his face grow warm.

"You must be bursting at the seams, then."

It's fondness in his eyes, and Alexander remembers all at once:

"And what about you, Burr? I recently heard you had a child of your own, but scarcely any details. Don't tell me it was only a rumour..."

At that, Burr looks down and slowly allows his mouth to stretch into a real smile. And he nods.

"A daughter," he tells him. "Named after her mother. She's only a few months old, now, but she's..."

He looks to Alexander as though hoping he'll supply a suitable word, but neither of them have it. Alexander understands anyway.

"I wish I could have known before—just the same as I wish you'd invited me to the wedding, but I'll get over it with time."

As he rests a hand on Burr's arm to let him know that's all in jest, Philip start squirming against his other hand.

"Oh—you don't mind if I let him run around, do you?"

"If he breaks anything, I'm holding you responsible."

"He won't," he assures as he lets his son go—and he takes off as soon as his feet hit the floor. "...Most likely. Do you really need all this, anyway? This is an unnecessary pile of wealth you have here, Burr."

With that he's only half-joking. This house must be twice as large as his and Eliza's, if not even larger.

"Most of it was left behind by my parents and Theodosia's late husband," Burr says, glancing around with him as though even he hasn't gotten used to the size. "It'll be useful to sell if the law business ever goes through a dryspell."

_So he's not truly attached to any of these things,_  Alexander thinks, but for once he keeps it to himself. Partially because he's too busy watching his son explore the room in awe, if not for all the other things on his mind.

"Oh—I wanted to show you this," he remembers aloud, and at once he removes his hand from Burr's arm and reaches inside his pocket, then pulls out a folded-up paper. "Philip drew it. Isn't it amazing?"

Pride burns in his chest as he unfolds the chalk drawing, even as Burr raises an eyebrow at him and says,

"It's a bunch of scribbles."

" _Distinctive_  scribbles! If you look closely it's clear he's making an attempt to capture the likeness of a person—likely me or Eliza. I say it's impressive he can hold a piece of chalk at all with fingers so small..."

He watches as Burr frowns back to the drawing, trying to make something of it, and as his look of fondness becomes tinged with exasperation.

"Come, Burr," he continues, lighthearted, "surely fatherhood has changed you the same way."

His expression softening again, the man arches his neck to spot Philip behind some furniture, and then turns to him.

"My Theodosia can barely crawl as of yet, but... I'm sure it will. Though likely not enough to have me travel all the way to your house just to show her off."

_Oh_ , he almost forgot.

"Actually, I meant to say—I've moved just down the street!" Alexander grins again, and Burr's face drops just slightly. "So in that case your fatherly pride should be just enough to carry you when you get it."

"And you now have the opportunity to bother me any time you like, what with our offices right next door as well. Have you been planning this?"

There's no friendly gesture along with it, but Alexander feels sure it's in jest. At least a little bit.

"I'll only say I found it lucky that an empty, affordable house was so close. I hadn't had the chance to brag about my son very much in person yet..."

He puts a hand on his friend's arm again and gets a breathy laugh in response. This is the most he's seen Burr smile so genuinely during a single conversation that he can remember, and his chest flushes when he realizes.

"...You know," Burr starts slowly, "I don't think I quite understood your affection for Philip until Theodosia was born. I never imagined I could be a father and now... she's the light of my life."

That's one thing they have in common, at least. Alexander takes great comfort in it.

"You're welcome in my home whenever you'd like to come wax poetic about your daughter," he decides to tell him. "Or any other time, for that matter. Though I'd very much like to see her before she grows to Philip's size, if that would be alright."

Burr seems to consider it very seriously, his own pride shining through, before deciding—

"Perhaps later, when her mother is finished napping and I know she won't be bothered."

Alexander's face drops for the first time during his visit.

"Oh, I—I promised Eliza I wouldn't be gone very long, so... I suppose I'll have to come back another time unless they wake up very soon."

His hand still hasn't left Burr's arm, and the two of them may very well be standing too close, with too much warmth between them and too much fondness in both their gazes. More than mutual fatherly emotions sit in between them and Alexander is reminded very suddenly of Laurens, of how much he looked forward to introducing his son to him in those first few months—before receiving that letter, of course.

And John Laurens is positively the reason for his emotional distance from most except Eliza for the past year, particularly the man in front of him now... and even more particularly, in regards to his son.

He feels a sharp pain at the thought of his loss and an even sharper stab of guilt as he recognizes how familiar the warmth is between him and Burr. (Not that they never had this when Laurens was alive.)

Meanwhile Philip, as brilliant as he is for his age, is oblivious to the shine in his father's eyes and to the closeness between him and this other man. At nearly two years old he's seen so many strangers come and go that they likely make no difference to him—but of course, while Alexander will never let his son know the extent of it, he wants this one to make a difference.

"Philip!" he finally calls, pulling his son's attention from a stack of books and back to himself. Obediently, he comes running, and Alexander scoops him up once more. "I think you two ought to actually meet before we go—Philip, this is your Uncle Burr."

Burr shakes Philip's hand with two fingers, then raises an amused eyebrow at him.

"Uncle?"

"What, you want him to call you  _Aaron Burr, sir_?"

As though answering in his place, Philip immediately and distinctly says: "Boosah."

A swell of pride rushes through him and Alexander laughs, which prompts his friend to chuckle along with him.

"He, ah, has a little trouble with the R's...  _Burr_ , Philip. Can you say Burr?"

"Boosah," he insists.

Burr himself barks a laugh, this time. "...I guess that's my name, now."

"He'll get it eventually," Alexander tells him.

"If he's anything like his father, I'm sure he will."

As dryly as it was spoken, that draws up the same warmth from minutes ago—the kind that brings him a stab of guilt. Not enough guilt, however, for him to step away when Burr closes the distance between them. (He's never had enough guilt to step away.)

Philip is back on the floor like he prefers, and Burr's hand has come to rest on the crook of his neck—so smoothly that he barely knows how it got there.

"For all of our disagreements, Alexander, I think you'll be an excellent father."

"For all of our differences, Burr, I think we both will." If his cheeks aren't as red as his lips at the moment, that would be a miracle. It doesn't help that he thinks to add, "Our lives run in a sort of parallel, don't you think?"

If Philip wasn't old enough to understand—if Burr's wife wasn't directly upstairs... perhaps this visit would end differently. Perhaps it  _will_ , another evening, a longer visit, when his grief over Laurens has had even more time to fade and the tension between them has become too thick to ignore—but just. Not now.

"We'll see," is how Burr answers, and then he draws him even closer for a short embrace. If they've ever clung to each other like this even so briefly, it was so long ago that he can't remember.

It feels like a promise.

Alexander takes Philip by the hand again within the minute and tells him to say goodbye, which he manages impressively. He grins yet again.

"I'll be back soon enough," he tells Burr as he reaches the door, unwittingly echoing his sentiments to Eliza from earlier.

"Do try not to come bothering me  _too_  much."

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda hope I become known as the guy who writes all the not-so-ambiguously romantic historically accurate Hamilton fic. Because as you can see, that's what I like to do.


End file.
